Yours: An Emotional and Gripping WWII Family Saga (The Promises Between Us Trilogy Book 1)

by Angela Christina Archer

  “But it will eat me. He said it would eat me. I want my mum.”

  “I know you want your mum. I want mine too. But he was lying to you. It’s just a train. We get on and ride on it like a boat or a motorcar.”

  “So, it won’t eat me?” She wiped her eyes with her little fingers and sniffed.

  “No, it won’t I promise. We are going to ride it to another city where we are staying for our adventure.”

  “But where are we going?”

  “Um,” I bit my lip as I glanced up, watching the train finally pull into the station. The hiss of the engine and brakes sounded off the walls, and the kids jumped back away from it once again. With wide eyes, they calmed and began studying the machine. “I don’t know where we are going yet, but I can try to find out.”

  As we herded the children on board, the mothers and teachers stood by the doors, counting and calling out names of those not paying attention. One by one, the little ones scaled the steps and vanished behind the blacked-out windows. They each gave one more glance back over their shoulder, as though uncertain, and yet, they had no other choice.

  “Move along. The quicker we get seated and settled, the quicker we can start our adventure.” A smile beamed across Mrs. Pembroke’s face while a thin sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead, and she exhaled a few deep breaths every few moments.

  “Do you know where we are going?” I asked.

  She shook her head, then nodded toward the train. “They didn’t give us much detail. Just get on the train, dear. You’ll find out soon enough where we’re going.”

  FOUR

  Evelyn - June 1940

  “Do you think we will ever see her again?”

  I gave Henry a sideways glance as we watched the children, along with my sister; follow the teachers away from the school. Vanishing before our eyes, the only remnants of them were the few parents who also stayed behind to watch them leave. Everyone sobbed around us. Mothers clutched their chests while fathers consoled them, a few crying themselves while the rest tried to remain stoic.

  “Do you think we won’t?” I asked him.

  Henry inhaled a deep breath, exhaling through his nose as his eyes unfocused. It was as though he was staring off into the sea at everything in front of him, and yet, nothing in front of him at all. “I would love to say I think we will. But, for some reason, I can’t. Like something is stopping me.”

  “If you thought that then why did you let her go?”

  He blinked, then returned my gaze. “Why did you let her go?”

  “Because it’s safer for her to go.”

  “And that’s why I made the same choice you did.”

  We both turned our attention back to the emptiness in front of us, and as we stood there in silence, one by one, the parents left arm in arm, comforting each other, and telling one another their children would be all right, that they were safer, that they would have fun on what would be the adventure of a lifetime. The only lies parents could tell themselves in this moment in order not to make them want to crawl out of their skin.

  I didn’t want to even imagine what they were going through or what they felt. It was hard enough saying goodbye to my sister, not knowing what would happen to her. But a child? The piece of your heart that is your own flesh and blood and that you made? Someone who you would die for? Someone who you have sworn in front of God to protect? Someone who carries every ounce of love you can give them within their tiny bodies?

  “Do you believe the Germans are going to come to Guernsey?” I asked, needing a distraction from my own thoughts.

  He snorted a laugh. “Who the bloody hell knows anything in this war.”

  “I wonder where they are taking them.” It was more of a statement, I said to myself as I lowered my voice. “It’s got to be somewhere in London. It’s the biggest city.”

  “But it’s also where the King is.” He folded his arms across his chest. “The Germans aren’t bombing the country towns. They are bombing the cities. Paris, Cherbourg, the people of Guernsey would be much safer in the countryside than in London.”

  “I suppose you’re right, and all we can do is hope they stay safe.” I wrapped my own arms around me, rubbing the sides of them as I ignored how the breeze blew my hair into my eyes. A few strands caught on my eyelashes.

  “So, why didn’t you go with her?”

  I bit my lip, shaking my head in the hope he would notice the hint I didn’t want to answer him and not press the question again.

  My hope was dashed.

  “Evelyn, I asked you a question.”

  “I know you did. But that doesn’t mean I wish to answer it.”

  “You should have gone with her.”

  “And why didn’t you go?” I faced him, sticking my hands on my hips as I looked up at him. At least a foot taller than me, his frame towered over mine.

  “You know I can’t leave my grandfather.”

  “Well, I can’t leave my parents.”

  He waved off my words with his hands before sticking them in his pockets. “Don’t give me that excuse. Your dad is not even forty-five years old. He’s hardly an invalid incapable of facing the Germans.”

  I opened my mouth, but shut it as I spun away from Henry, blinking back the tears welling in my eyes. With my arms crossed, I began trudging up the path toward home through the village of houses and farms.

  “Evelyn? Where are you going?” Henry called after me. His voice distant at first, it grew closer as he trotted after me, catching me with just a few strides. “Evelyn, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Like bloody hell nothing is wrong. What’s the matter?”

  “It’s just that . . . I don’t know how long my dad has left to live.”

  Henry grabbed my arm, stopping me as his grip turned me toward him. “What are you talking about? Left to live?”

  Unable to answer, I arched my gaze up toward the sky, then down to the farmhouse along the road where we walked. How many times had I passed Farmer Benson’s house in my lifetime? Ten thousand times? More? Less? One of the oldest farms in Guernsey, Mr. Benson supplied the island with milk, cheese, and an endless amount of laughs over his perils when birthing calves. I never knew why, if he hated them so much, he didn’t sell the place and the beasts and retire in town as he always said he longed for.

  I wonder now if he will ever get the chance.

  “My dad has cancer. It’s why I stayed behind. His doctors are treating it here, but . . . if they can’t help him and he needs to go to London . . . if the Germans invade Guernsey, he won’t be able to leave, not even to get medical care.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “I don’t know for certain, but when I overheard them talking about it after he returned from a doctor appointment one afternoon, they talked about getting their affairs in order. I can’t imagine that is a good sign.”

  Henry lifted his hand and scratched his forehead. His eyebrows furrowed. “No, it doesn’t bode well. If Amelia knew this, why did she leave?”

  “She doesn’t know. They never told her and neither did I.” I clutched my throat at the words I just spoke. I knew how awful they sounded in my head, and how much more horrible they sounded when said out loud. How could I—or even my parents—keep such news from her? She had the right to know. Any daughter would. Any sister would.

  Henry’s eyes widened. “You didn’t tell her?”

  “No. I didn’t. Mum and Dad still haven’t told me, and they don’t know that I know.”

  “Why didn’t you tell her?”

  “Because I just found out, and then the announcement came about the evacuation, and I didn’t want to worry her or make leaving them worse for her. She never would have left if she knew, and she needed to leave. You know she needed to leave. You told her she needed to leave. I am not the bad one for making her get on that boat!” By the time I finished I was shouting and crying. Why? I didn’t know.

  Henry grabbed me and yanked me toward him, wrapping
his arms around me. As suddenly as he embraced me, he shoved me away from him and cleared his throat.

  “I’m sorry. I . . . it was just a reaction.”

  “It’s all right. I know you only meant to . . . well, I know it wasn’t . . .” I wiped the tears from my face, sniffing. “It’s not just my parents’ thought. I don’t want to leave my bookshop—what little of it I have acquired, that is. I just agreed to rent the building from your grandfather. Although, I haven’t signed a rental contract or even planned to have an opening yet. But I . . . I just can’t leave it. It’s been my dream for so long.”

  “I understand. I feel the same way about the grocery store. But you shouldn’t worry about the building. My grandfather wouldn’t dare rent it to anyone else, no matter how much money they offered him. He wants you to have it. It will always be there for you. Now, a year from now, three years from now—he won’t care.”

  I thought of the little building I had, just weeks ago, stood in the middle of as I spun in circles and imagined all the shelves stacked with books. Of course, Amelia never understood my love of reading, and at times, I wondered if my parents did either. All those hours I would spend sitting on the couch or in a warm corner of the house with my nose buried in pages from a far-off world or fairytale land. Not only had I wanted to open a bookshop for as long as I could remember, but I also knew it would be a way to help my parents pay for Amelia to go to university as she wanted to become a journalist. While we were never a poor family, we were still farmers, living comfortably for our lives in Guernsey and nothing more.

  “I should get back to the house. Help my parents prepare for whatever is coming.” I spun to leave, but faced him once again instead, lifting my finger up to his face. “Not a word to anyone about my dad. I’m not sure he’s telling people and I don’t want to spread something he doesn’t want known.”

  “I promise not to say anything.”

  The entire way home, his words clawed at me. I should have told Amelia about Dad. Should have let her in on the secret eating away at me for the last few days. It’s not that I didn’t want her to know. I just didn’t want to burden her. Fear already haunting her from the war, she didn’t need another weight on her already beleaguered mind.

  I thought I knew what was best for her. I thought I knew the better choice to make.

  Seeing Henry’s reaction though, I now questioned myself.

  “Should Dad die before this bloody war is over, and she returns . . . she won’t get to say goodbye.” I paused with my hand on our farm’s front gate, and my eyes traced along the white wood boards. In need of another coat of paint, the grains of the wood swirled in looped patterns underneath my fingers and palms. “She will never forgive you. Never,” I said to myself.

  Having left the school long before I did, Mum and Dad had already returned home, and they stood with one another in the kitchen, unaware I had returned and now leaned against the wall of the hallway. With her back facing Dad, Mum held a dishrag up to her face as she sobbed, and he rubbed his hands along her shoulders and down the sides of her arms.

  I stared at the ceiling as I tried to think of what I would tell them. What would be my excuse for lying to them and sending my sister off to England alone?

  “At least we know they will be safe,” Dad whispered.

  “The entire world is on fire, George. Nowhere is safe.”

  “England is safer than here, though. When France fell, I . . . I knew it would be only a matter of time before they would come.”

  “But they aren’t here yet. Maybe they won’t come. Maybe they will see us as such a tiny place they won’t want to bother with us.” She spun to face him. Her cheeks burned with a bright shade of pink and her eyes were almost swollen shut from crying. “What if we sent them away and instead of coming here, the Germans go to England?” She began sobbing again and buried her face in the collar of his shirt.

  “All we can do is hope and pray they will stay safe and we will see them soon.”

  I closed my eyes, and unable to hear Mum sobbing any longer, I took a deep breath and darted into the kitchen.

  “Sooner than you think, too,” I said.

  They both jumped and faced me.

  “Evelyn? What on earth are you doing here?” Mum asked. She wiggled away from Dad and made her way toward me. “You’re supposed to be on a boat to England.”

  “Well, that’s the thing. I decided I was going to stay here.”

  “Stay here? Are you daft, child?”

  “I’m not a child, Mum. I’m an adult, and I have every right to decide if I am to leave or not. Besides, I know they wanted to save most of the spots for children or young mothers with children. I didn’t want to take the place of a child who could otherwise go.” I glanced between them, and while Dad smiled, Mum shook her head.

  “Why did you stay?” She continued to shake her head for a moment, then her eyes widened, and she glanced over my shoulder. “Does that mean Amelia stayed as well?”

  “No, she went. I told her to go and Henry told her, too. It’s safer for her to go.”

  “Safer for you as well.” Dad cocked his head to the side and reached out, giving me a hug. “Although it’s nice to have you here, it doesn’t mean I won’t worry about you. Here. With the Germans.”

  “And now Amelia is alone. You two were supposed to go together.”

  “She isn’t alone. She’s with Mrs. Pembroke and all those children.” I moved away from them, making my way over to the chop block. I grabbed the loaf of bread that was still sitting there from when Mum was making sandwiches that morning and cut off a slice. “And I saw her friends, Mary and Nora, at the school waiting with the group. The three of them are surely together. She’ll be fine.”

  “But you can’t say that for sure. Oh, Evelyn, why did you make her go alone?” Mum moved alongside the cutting board and took the knife from my hand. She cut off a couple of pieces of cheese and handed it to me.

  “Mum, she’s seventeen years old. She will be all right.”

  She heaved a deep sigh. “I still don’t understand why you stayed,” she whispered.

  I took a bite of bread and cheese, dropping my gaze to the countertop. I chewed slowly as I weighed the truth against a lie. Although, I didn’t know which lie. I hadn’t thought of one and no matter how much I tried to think of one now, nothing was coming to me.

  Nothing.

  “I didn’t want to leave you two alone. That’s all.”

  “But we aren’t alone. We have each other.”

  My eyes met my dad’s, and we stared at one another for a moment before he dropped his gaze. It was as though he knew the unspoken words sitting on the tip of my tongue. Knew that I knew his secret and was worried about the Germans coming here and him not being able to leave if he needed to. He ducked his chin, giving me a couple of nods.

  “You know, don’t you?” he asked.

  “Know what?” Mum glanced between the two of us.

  Dad heaved a deep sigh. “She knows I’m sick, Doris. That’s why she stayed behind. She stayed behind because if Germans invade Guernsey and the war continues on as I get sicker, perhaps even die, she didn’t want you here facing it alone.”

  Mum’s eyes widened, and she lifted her hand, brushing her fingertips along her forehead. Her breathing quickened. “How . . . how did you find out?”

  “I overheard you two talking about it.”

  “Does Amelia know too?”

  “No. I didn’t tell her. I didn’t want to worry her.”

  A sense of relief seemed to swim inside both of them, and while Dad glanced up at the ceiling as if to say a prayer, Mum closed her eyes for a moment and steadied her breath.

  “Well,” Dad finally said. “What’s done is done. She is here, and there is nothing we can do to change it. Might as well begin the work for the day. I’ll see to the pigs.”

  Before Mum and I could say another word, he spun, fetched his hat from the hat rack, and strode out the back door, shutting it be
hind him with a harder than normal thud.

  “I didn’t wish to anger him,” I said. Although I stared at the door, it unfocused in my gaze, becoming nothing but a blurred image of what it used to be in my sight.

  “He is not angry.” Mum exhaled a deep sigh as she grabbed the loaf of bread and wrapped it back up in the cloth. “He is just worried, that’s all.”

  “All of us are worried. We have been for weeks.” I grabbed the cheese before Mum could and tucked it back in the cheesecloth for her, handing it over. “So, when does he see the doctor again?”

  “In a few days. We will go to St. Peter’s Port after so we can get a few things at the market. I hope Ian and Henry have their store stocked up. Your dad and I were talking last night about getting some extra and hiding it down in the boards under the cellar.”

  “Hiding it?”

  She nodded. “In case the Germans come.”

  “Do you really think we will need to hide food from them?”

  “People are starving in France. I’ve seen countless news stories about how people must live off meager rations. People are getting a pint of milk for an entire week, and no meat whatsoever.”

  “A pint? For an entire week? Surely that won’t happen here. We have a couple of milk cows along with the pigs and chickens. It would not serve them well to not just let the families in the country continue to provide for themselves.”

  “Do you think that people in France don’t have cows or pigs or chickens? They are all living on rations now, even the people in the country.”

  “I know they have them.”

  “Then why say such a daft thing?” We both looked at each other and started laughing at the foolishness of the argument. “Are we really at odds over farm animals?”

  “What shall we quarrel about next?” I laughed even harder. “We have a variety of fruits and vegetables to choose from.”

  “I think we should stick with meat. Pigs?”

  “Or perhaps chickens.”

  Mum rested her hands on the counter as she closed her eyes and tried not to laugh harder. A small part of me wondered what was so funny, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it really wasn’t. We were just in such a desperate need for something—anything—to amuse us; we found it anywhere we could, even in the stupid notion that arguing over a cow could bring us into stitches.